


"We're fine, I promise"

by wepreachelectric (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2011-2012 era more, 2012, Angst, Dan POV, Established Relationship, Fighting, Flashbacks, M/M, Making Out, Manchester, POV Second Person, Phan - Freeform, Time Passing, make-ups, the video, v-day vid mention, valentines day video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:35:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/wepreachelectric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which everything is not fine, but neither of them want to acknowledge the fact until one of them breaks down, forcing them to see how bad everything has really gotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"We're fine, I promise"

**Author's Note:**

> I am completely and utterly disgusted with this. I literally cried writing it, not sorry at all, whoops. This is written in second person (you, your,) so if that sort of talking/narrating where it seems like it might be happening to you, bothers or makes you feel uncomfortable, I suggest not reading this. <3

He insists that you’re both fine after he walks into your room and finds you curled into yourself, sobbing your heart out, eyes not even seeing him walk in. You want to believe that you’re both fine after he gently sits down next to you on the bed. You start to think you know it’s fine when he ever-so-carefully lifts you up and pulls you into his lap, holding you while you cry and clutch fistfulls of his t-shirt and he buries his nose in your hair whispering, “I love you, we’re fine, I love you so much,” over and over again. You choke back another sob because you want to believe, you want to believe him so bad that everything is going to be okay, and in that moment it is.

But, it’s not always all fluff and it’s certainly not always him apologizing, or hugs and kisses and smiles.

Sometimes it’s a screamed “we’re fine!” that’s followed by a slammed door and everything’s quiet, even your crying. When the door closes, you feel the noise reverberate in your heart. You had been trying so hard not to cry, to look strong and hold your ground like he does every damn time you fight.

\---

The funny thing is that you don’t even remember what this fight was about. You’be both been on edge for so long, so so long, ever since the stupid video leaked. That day was the first time he tried to convince you that everything was fine. Everything going on between you two was just fine and dandy. The moment is etched into your mind, it haunts you at night some days, reminding you of everything that’s not okay.

You remember waking up. You woke up that day feeling more cheerful and awake that you had in a long time--a cruel joke to your sleepless nights now spent thinking over every single thing you said during a fight or worrying over your day and him, sleepless nights over him.

It was warm in the flat, and there is a distinct memory of shuffling into the living room in nothing but your boxers because you knew that he always loved that, to cuddle you and dig his fingers into your bare sides making you shriek at whatever odd early hour it was.

It’s been awhile since that last happened.

He was sitting cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees. His face was ashy, like he’d just seen a ghost. He also looked like he was about to cry. Quivering lip and clenched fists, eyes entirely glazed over. It would have been impossible to not tell how close he was to spilling over.

Before you can say something, ask what’s wrong, anything, he’s already pleading, “We’re fine, everything’s fine, I love you,” when the tears finally spill. They were silent tears, quietly dripping down his cheeks and he kept saying, “I love you, nothing’s wrong, we’re fine, I love you so much.” The tears start falling faster and harder until he’s full on sobbing and yet . . .

You stood in the doorway, unable to move.

Something wasn’t right, obviously, but you had known right away from when he had slammed his laptop closed the moment you stepped in the doorway--the first tip that something was off--you ignored it though. Nothing was wrong and nothing could be. You were too young and too in love and he had told you, he had promised, if tangled under his duvet and sweaty and tired, but so in love and happy. He had promised that nothing would ever come between you, that he loved you so much.

\---

_It was under his duvet that he had confessed everything with his arms wrapped tight around your waist, tightening with each and every word. “I love you, I’m never letting anything bring us apart, ever. We’ll go everywhere together so I’ll never have to know a day without you.”_

_You had said nothing upon hearing this though, but instead tilted your head up from its spot on his bare chest with his nose tucked in your curls. You turned around in his tight embrace and looked down at him. His eyes, half closed, and just focusing on you were so blue and so filled with love that your heart swelled from looking in them._

_He reached up then, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with soft and sleepy fingers, and you had grabbed his wrist, stopping him so you could hold his hand. Maybe you were just being cheesy and stupid and dumb, but just so in love._

_He sat up, just the tiniest little bit to kiss you. Maybe you’ve just become the most cliché person in the world for feeling this way, but you completely and utterly melt into him. He sucks onto your lower lip and tugs at the ends of your hair until you fall bonelessly back on top of him. You pull  back for a second before you lean down, continuing the kiss and kissing him breathless. Your lips are pressed together with such force that you’re afraid that they’re going to bruise, but you don’t mind because he’s making the most beautiful moaning sounds that you’ve ever heard._

_The next thing you know, his hands are on your hips as he lifts you up and onto his lap all the while without breaking the kiss. Your heart breaks at how gentle he is. Soft and loving, making you feel like you’re the only one in the world who matters to him._

_You throw your arms over his shoulders and don’t even try to hold back your laugh as he pulls back and starts pressing his lips all over your face and neck, soft and as light as a feather, everywhere. You’re so happy and in love  in this moment that you feel as if you’re on top of the world._

_And, in that moment, maybe you were, and maybe just after that when his hands were on your hips again as he laid you back down, straddling your hips and kissed you until you saw stars, with one hand tangled in your hair and the other grazing over you stomach, maybe you were._

_How could you have seen any of “this” coming when later that day, sunlight streaming into the room when you opened your chocolate brown eyes only to be staring straight into a pair of sky blue ones. He had picked you up and carried you, wedding-style with your arms around his neck while pressing giggly kisses to his bare shoulder as he too you into the living room and tackled you on the couch. When he kissed all the way up your neck and across your jaw to your mouth, arms wrapped tight around your waist. You had laughed until you cried because you were just so happy._

_You wanted to spend forever in that moment, forever with him, so you told him just so._

_\---_

You can still remember how happy he looked in that moment. You can still see his ear-to-ear smile, and you wonder now if he remembers how happy he was in that moment, if he remembers any of that day or how in love you were. Do any of those memories resurface as he’s on the phone with his mother, and you can hear him, through the thin walls of your apartment, crying. You don’t hear it all but you know that it’s when you hear him say “I can’t do it anymore, mum. I don’t know what to do.”

You don’t hear anything else after that. Your thoughts are cloudy and thundering with the grief of a relationship you figure as good as dead. But, as with all thunderstorms, the rain comes and it pours. Lightning strikes rack your lean form as the thunder calls out again, echoing in his voice, “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t do it, I can’t,” you need shelter, to wait out the storm and you duck into your bed, but the cold, dark sheets leave you aching for the warm, bright embrace of him.

You curl up small, your frame still wracking with sobs, trying to choke out more tears, but your storm has left you dry and hollow and alone. Outside of your cave though, you don’t see him in your doorway with tears silent and flowing. The phone in his hand flashing “call ended.” He watches, knowing you heard all he said. He knows what you heard, he heard the heart-wrenching sobs and the door slam, he knows that you didn’t hear everything. You didn’t hear anything about how he still loves you, how now he’s definate of that fact. You didn’t hear him say how even if he can’t deal with this, with any of it, he stayed because of you. While staying here he thought would kill him, leaving you he knows would have killed him for sure.

All the while he stands there watching, thinking. He never steps up, never says a word. He did this, he made you like this. How do you comfort, how do you apologize for a broken heart when you’re the one who caused it?

You don’t know how long he stood there, but by  the next morning as you dare to untangle yourself from your nest of grief and bedsheets and rub the sleep and dry tears from your eyes, you see him. Slumped on the floor and leaning against your doorframe. His cheeks are still wet, like he’d never stopped crying. Legs, straight out in front of him and arms limp at his sides.

On weak legs you stand, shakily forging your way to the other boy. Your knees wobble and you feel as if you could cry again.

Your mind is both surprisingly clear and almost entirely blank. You move without thinking and your body feels numb, watching yourself move as if watching from afar.

You watch yourself approach him slowly, carefully, as if you expect him to jump and attack at you like an angry dog. He doesn’t.

Crouching down so you can sit on your heels, level with his sky-blue eyes, you raise a shaky hand and gingerly wipe the tear tracks off of his face and take a deep breath before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. Butterfly-soft like the kind would use to wish you goodnight when he thought you were already asleep. You wonder if his heart contracts as much as yours does when you remember the little things like that.

Just that little touch leaves you craving more, and now, looking at him, seemingly as broken as you feel--red-ringed eyes from crying, slumped and tired looking, smaller somehow.

This time you think, and you lean forward yet some more and curl into his chest. Arms wrapped around his waist and your head in its spot where his neck and shoulder connect you finally feel at home. You can feel him wrap his arms around you as well and his nose is in your hair. It’s you who chokes out a sob at the nostalgia of the two of your favorite way to cuddle up.

He shushes you, and says, voice muffled by your hair, “I promise this time we’ll be fine. I’ve always loved you, that’s how I know.”

You don’t say anything, still. You tilt your face up like you did every other time you’ve sat wrapped up like this, and you press your lips to his, softly and unsure. You pull away a moment so you can whisper, “I’ve always loved you too.”

\---

Things get better, but not right away

You talk, and you’d talked things out, and you’d stopped fighting.

You can remember the last time, the final time you cried because of him throughout all of this.

_You’re tired. So much more so than you have been in weeks, it seems and after squeezing his hand goodnight as you get up from the couch as he’s watching Buffy, you curl back into an empty bed. Almost immediately after you’ve just settled in, your door opens again and he’s there, he’s here and climbing into your bed. He holds you closer than you can ever recall him doing before, when you cry. Not sad or bitter tears, but you’re relieved. You know he’s forgiven you. You can feel it. He slides a hand under your chin, to tilt your face up and looking at him in the dim light._

_This time, unlike every other time before it, he presses his lips to your face, kissing away each and every tear until you fall asleep against his chest._

_This was the first time you didn’t notice him giving you a butterfly-soft goodnight._

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> surprisingly there was no 2009 ref. i'm a little disappointed.


End file.
